


̶N̶e̶u̶t̶r̶a̶l̶i̶t̶y̶

by regardingseas



Series: Dream SMP One-Shots [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dream Smp, El Rapids, Gen, I REALLY painted Dream as a villain here, Internal Conflict, It Is Edited Though, King Eret, Light Angst, Pride Castle, Self-Reflection, That's right you heard me, The Badlands, i'm half sorry, l'manberg, mentions of injury, no beta we die like ghostbur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27945326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regardingseas/pseuds/regardingseas
Summary: Eret reflects on his position as King, secretly mulling over the unfortunate reality behind his sudden re-enthronement.Lost in thought, he really hadn't expected company.
Series: Dream SMP One-Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046515
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	̶N̶e̶u̶t̶r̶a̶l̶i̶t̶y̶

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know the real reason why Eret was made King again, but this is regarding the possible plot-driven reasons.
> 
> I had some mild inspiration from Lamuliz's "Withered" animatic on YT. Funnily enough, not because of the au at all, but simply how they chose to animate certain scenes. Still, I recommend you check it out if you haven't already!

_Apointed_ isn't the term Eret would use to describe how he'd been granted Kingship.

Far from it, really. 

Being appointed would imply having waited expectantly in line for the throne. It would have suggested an overly-emotional ceremony, wherein the golden crown was placed gleefully atop his head, citizens cheering and clapping all the while. Appointment wasn't being forced into a position of impartiality, after already having stepped down to avoid exactly that.

His self-made castle of stone still surrounded him, but its walls had begun to feel more like those of a penitentiary rather than a striking fortress. He'd loved it once, but the place had lost its spark when he first resigned. Eret still cringed at the utter indifference the others had while tearing down his decorations, so careless that they'd appeared borderline amused by his loss. It had stung enough to watch them destroy the trinkets and statues he'd grown so attached to, but when he'd awoken the next day to find the rainbows of his pride castle replaced with the country's flags, there was a sour taste in his mouth that never quite washed away.

_It's nothing personal,_ they'd announced, _just a reminder of who's in charge._

It was dull without the bright splashes of colour weaved into the framework of his home, so empty without the unreasonable number of sculptures crowding the walkways. Even with his knights roaming the halls, and his newly recognised allies in El Rapids in the distance, it was lonely.

Eret gazed down at the coronet clutched in his hands-- warped reflections from its jewels staring back at him in turn. Each gem depicted its own version of the same scene; like bevelled little mirrors, rendering his image through varying levels of colour and distortion.

Through them, he watched himself drag the pad of his thumb across his forehead, tracing the scar courtesy of Dream's axe when the man had forcibly taken that same crown only months ago. In retrospect, he supposed he shouldn't have been so against handing it over, not when it had been his choice to step down in the first place. But he'd wanted to save his friends in L'Manberg, and hadn't expected his associates to resort to such savagery in the process. He should feel betrayed by their actions, but after everything he'd done, he doubted he deserved such a luxury. Rather, he opted to find a bitter solace in the fact they hadn't chosen to scalp him for it instead.

It was almost funny, --in a twisted sort of way-- the hypocrisy of Dream's methods. The way he'd pried the crown from Eret's clutches, only to turn and shove it back into his arms mere weeks later.

_Just sit there and look pretty like before_ , he'd been told the day he was re-appointed, a hand beneath his chin to tilt his head skyward. His tinted lenses had been knocked askew, with the other man's strange mask pushed aside in a similar manner. It was the first time they'd truly made eye contact; vacant green meeting pure white with no barriers in between. _Play your part, and that's it._ Dream had warned. _Don't forget what happened last time, Eret. Remember who has the power._

He flinched in recollection of the words, lowering the crown atop his curls with a sigh. He had no authority, and he knew that. He may be King, but that no longer meant anything worthwhile. It didn't grant him more control. If anything, it took away what little he had.

He couldn't make laws, nor grant or revoke citizenship. He couldn't order an executive pardon allowing the poor exiled teen back into their borders like he'd once hoped. With his autonomy revoked, he couldn't even take sides, and that left him nowhere pleasant.

Eret rose to his feet with a huff, pacing away from his throne and down a long corridor. His footfalls echoed off the brick, and it wasn't long before he reached a set of doors leading to the balcony. Pushing through, the frigid air hit him in a surge, though he welcomed the alertness that the cold provided. With a freshly level head, he approached the platform's edge, peering over his glasses and surveying the damaged land before him. 

Despite it all, he had to remain neutral. A simple bystander, left to spectate the chaos as it unfolded around him.

But that was exactly what Dream wanted, wasn't it? To force Eret's ever-wavering political compass into a set direction; rigging it with an extorsive magnet made to steer him away from rebellion. There was no rising up when weighed down by the illusion of endless responsibility, and Dream had proven this was a role he couldn't escape if he tried.

The man had granted Eret Kingship for the same reason he chased after the discs. He did it for the same reason he did anything, really. _It gave him control._

The discs because of their unmatched allure and rich history, and his appointing of Eret because it meant he was no longer allowed to defy. Dream was the puppet-master; stood high above them all with strings attached to his blood-stained fingers. He'd pull and contort them at will, and there was little to be done to stop him.

Eret sighed to himself, forced to oversee the steady fall of a Kingdom that no longer belonged to its subjects. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion.

It didn't help that on the shorelines of the Badlands, a new structure unofficially dubbed _Pandora's Vault_ was being fortified. Unlike the metaphorical prison he and the other citizens found themselves in, this one was going to be all too real. He knew that firsthand, having been made to assist in the terraforming of the area. He'd shovel heaps of sand and dirt into the place, all the while helping to cut back strange tendrils of corruption that burst from the earth. Apparently known as blood vines, they'd spread far too fast for his liking. Too fast for anyone's liking, really, other than Bad's. He'd screamed as they removed them, and Eret knew his attachment to the strange red egg and its filaments could mean nothing but trouble. But what more was there for him to do?

Eret gripped the railing of the balcony, his tired breaths swirling into clouds of steam against the night. He'd already tried all he could, and it still amounted to nothing. Distantly, he wondered how long it would be before everything fell apart for good, permanently reduced to rubble and ash...

What must have been H's bootsteps sounding down the hall was enough to tear him from his thoughts, and the brunet shook his head to chase away his doubt. It was no time to be giving in to such conceptions. After all, that would only pave the way for even darker paths.

So, to no one but himself, he spoke gentle assurances.

"I won't let that happen..." he mused, "I won't stand idly by forever. Dream can't continue to enforce this tyranny over everyone. I know what I have to do."

"Plotting against me, are we?" an abrupt voice jeered, and Eret spun around in a flash, met with a man donning dark armour and an X-inscribed shield.

His stomach dropped. _He knew the footsteps had sounded off._

"Dream…" he gawked, jaw clenched tight.

The masked man simply grinned, enchanted axe catching refractions in the moonlight. "Hello, Eret."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> I wasn't totally sure about this one since I don't watch Eret's streams much, but I still wanted to try my hand at something different.


End file.
